


Arcadia

by MagicaLauren



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Exchange, M/M, Rare Pairings, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLauren/pseuds/MagicaLauren
Summary: Akaashi has too many soulmarks to count, each one representing a different version of the same lie. 'I'm fine' they read, printing themselves across his skin. He's grown up with it, it's made him who he is - someone with a messed up soulmate.Oikawa has five soulmarks, reassurances. 'I don't love my soulmate' his favorite one reads, a reminder that his soulmate very much does.





	

What should feel like pen strokes - probably- feel a little bit more like knives brushing over Akaashi’s body. 

 

It doesn’t really  _ cause  _ pain. A phantom pain more like. And Akaashi is used to it.

 

The lies over Akaashi’s skin. They circle around his wrists, up his forearms, laying at the base of his neck  _ wrapping around his throat _ \- they constantly surround him. 

 

A childish scrawl here, perfect calligraphy there, a few ‘ _ I didn’t get your call, sorry!’  _ and one recurring name following the lies  _ ‘- Iwa-chan!’  _ mix in but. Mostly it’s just-

 

_ ‘I’m fine.’ _

_ ‘I’m great, how are you?’ _

_ ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ _

_ ‘I’m okay! thanks!’ _

 

The words, lies really, seem to crawl and itch and burn. 

 

Sometimes physically. 

When Akaashi scrubs in the shower trying to rub the pseudo ink off, or itches at his thighs in class. (Late nights. When ten or twelve appear during the day and about twenty more at night. Akaashi hopes they’re not in the same time zone because it’s an awful late time of night to be lying to someone. Usually scalding hot showers on those nights, to help burn the words away.) 

 

Sometimes mentally. 

When Akaashi tugs at his hair, feels a burning in his throat and a pressure behind his eyes from tears just waiting for one more ‘ _ I’m fine.’  _ to push him over the edge, when his breaths come a little too fast and his skin feels small, because who’s lying about being fine, his soulmate or himself? (Long days. When Akaashi laid out shorts he promised himself he would wear to proudly show off his soulmarks. Only to stare in the mirror and regret and feel wrong and pull on his longest sleeves and longest pants and then just stares, eyes a little blurry at the patterns winding around his skin. Usually stinging cold water those nights.)

 

But it  _ hurts. _ Nothing seems to lessen the pain of knowing your soulmate, the one who you are responsible for making happy and complete, is very decidedly not happy. 

 

Akaashi picks his words deliberately. Doesn’t let anything but a few controlled lies (‘ _ I don’t love and support my soulmate.’)  _ slip through. 

 

He wraps them with tape during practice, a little bit more than the average person, but no one says anything when he looks half like a mummy. Luckily lies don’t appear on his face. 

 

It still eats away. Like when the team had a few drinks after Bokuto’s spot in Weekly Volleyball. 

(“A full page Akaashi, can you believe!? I’m gonna be the best spiker ever! The best captain! and you get to be my setter!” “Yes Bokuto-san, of course.”) 

 

A few unsavory words from one of the tipsy third years at the time, the setter of course, jealous of Akaashi’s up and coming position. But, it’s the kind of ‘unsavory’ words Akaashi will always carry with him:

 

“Why do ya got so many markings, eh? Does your soulmate lie  _ that much? _ They must be awful. I guess that’s why they got stuck with yo-”

 

The captain had taken him out back, and only the captain had returned. As for Akaashi’s former senpai, he apologized with a bruised cheek and hadn’t ever come back to practice. Still, the words hung in the air for days, longer still, in Akaashi’s mind.

 

So Akaashi really is used to it, them, the constant hyper awareness that your soulmate is not doing great or good or even fine.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The Aoba Joshai team is good. Really good. Like catch your eye and make you look twice good. But Shiratorizawa is better.

 

Akaashi can see it in the Setter’s body language. Not something Akaashi can particularly pick out in him like hunched shoulders, desperate eyes, wild movements or anything, but just an overall look. 

 

The setter controls the game, everyone knows that. If the Setter (who is in full control of the ball, is in constant awareness of every position on the court- and this one  _ is, _ Akaashi can tell how good he is) thinks his team is going to lose, they're going to lose. 

 

He's sweating and frustrated and looks like every stressed out ‘ _ I want to just sleep but I gotta do this _ ’ feeling Akaashi has ever felt. He wants to look away, but the setter - Oikawa - is supposedly a genius, if Akaashi ever wants to beat him then he has to study him. So he’s been watching the setter’s hand movements, where he positions himself on the court, the who what when where, all of it.

 

And then, the kid smiles. Brilliantly, beautifully, it’s radiant and social and so amicable in exactly all the ways Akaashi knows he’s not. He calls out something - probably a play - that Akaashi misses over the buzz of the crowd, but he says it so much more spirited than he was before that Akaashi wonders.

The words that print across themselves on Akaashi’s skin makes it his business to know when someone is very definitely  _ not  _ fine. This kid… falls under that category and yet he brushes it off so easily. 

 

“Akaashi! Did you see that? Do you think you’ll be able to copy it?” Bokuto jostles in along the rail into Akaashi’s shoulder making him blink twice and focus on the game again.

 

Ah, he missed a setter dump. 

 

“I’m sure I can Bokuto-san,” Akaashi assures reaching into Bokuto’s bag of chips and snatching a handful for himself. 

 

It’s really loud in the stadium, but it all sounds so distant. Akaashi feels like the genius setter is on another planet and Akaashi’s mind followed.

 

“I hope we win…” a girl whines behind him on the bleachers, “he flirted with me today, I think if we win then he’ll ask me out. Isn’t that exciting? I’ve never seen any marks on him, but I think he’s seen mine, so maybe he knows and he’s waiting to tell-”

 

Akaashi focuses his mind again, drifting away to that far away planet.

 

The next play is amazing, something Akaashi could only achieve in theoreticals and his dreams. A rally with the ball going up and down and back up again for almost ten minutes whille Aoba Joshai’s setter does everything to hold the team together. He slams the ball down, he even spiked it once, and sends it to players who are just controlling the ball. The whole team is working like a muscle. But their exhausted, way more tired than Akaashi’s ever had to play as.

 

They lose, of course. Aoba Joshai.

 

Bokuto and Akaashi sit in silence for a few minutes while others shuffle out or complain.

 

According to gossip in the stands the setter Akaashi was observing had some long standing rivalry against Shiratorizawa and Shiratorizawa kept winning, the odds were stacked against him. 

 

“Did you observe the setter for Shiratorizawa at all? If you can beat their setter and I can beat the stupid head Ushijima then we’ll be set up for top five in the prefecture,” Bokuto and him wander back down from the bleachers slowly, fingers all covered in chip salt. 

 

Admittedly, Akaashi had glanced at Shiratorizawa’s setter, but the setter for Aoba Joshai caught his eye and he couldn’t look away, “I’m only a first year still Bokuto-san, I might not even play next year,” Akaashi says instead. He knows Bokuto’s response before he even says it: “I’ll be captain and ace next year Akaashi. Annnd I’ll make you my setter and my vice, so don’t even worry about it!” It’s been the third time they’ve had this conversation.

 

They reach the bottom of the stairs and and turn down the hallway to the exit when a distinct head of hair floats over the crowd. Bokuto practically yelps in excitement “Kuroo! My main bro!” he calls and bounds off after the other boy leaving Akaashi abandoned. 

 

Akaashi’s not too concerned, he doubts Bokuto would go so far as to leave without him. Instead of chasing after the two he heads toward the snack stand for some soda before he leaves. 

The brown bouncy hair that stands in front of him is unmistakable. Akaashi almost blushes knowing how much he stared at the older boy throughout the game. 

 

He wants to reach out, to tap him on the shoulder and say ‘You did great, your team was amazing.’ Instead he just shifts his feet and stays silent letting him take his order. 

 

In fact, Akaashi is so deep in thought about whether or not to approach him, even for a small word, the setter turns and spills his things.

 

Perhaps it’s sports reflexes, but Aoba Joshai’s setter manages to direct the spill of orange soda onto himself and miss Akaashi when he feels the tilt of his cup.

 

Akaashi feels awful, and it doesn’t help this kid probably feels worse. He just lost the finals to nationals, this has got to be the last thing this kid needs. Instead of yelling apologies like Bokuto would or anything, Akaashi feels his instincts kick in to grab twelve napkins -it comes from his mother- and moves things away to try and contaminate the damage. “I’m so sorry, this is totally my fault. Let me help you clean up. I’ll even buy you a shirt,” he promises, scrubbing vigorously at the orange tinted stain soaking into his sports jacket.

 

The kid is frozen and Akaashi slows his scrubbing to look up. 

 

He’s crying, big fat silent alligator tears are spilling over his cheeks. Stopping completely Akaashi reforms a plan in his head. He throws the napkins away first and grabs fresh ones, gently takes the empty soda can and chips out of the other’s hands, herding him into the nearby bathroom. Nobody is really in there since the last match ended and everyone is gone or leaving now.

 

Akaashi positions the food delicately along the sink and turns to the freaked out brown haired boy and tugs at the zipper on his jacket, softly, “here, first let’s get you out of that, your shirt looks like it’s undamaged for the most part so you should be fine- but like I said I’ll buy you a shirt if you want.”

 

Moving gently, Akaashi works his hands delicately, the way he did when he used to babysit. When he looks back up the kid is studying Akaashi with piercing eyes, his face holds no trace of crying save for a slight puffiness under his eyes. 

 

He looks exhausted, not just physically and he squints at Akaashi, it’s kind of cute the way his whole face crinkles and he juts his chin just a bit like it’s a challenge. 

 

“I’m sorry who are you?”

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

The slight whisper of words writing themselves out onto his skin isn’t something Akaashi’s completely unfamiliar with. In fact he’s a bit more used to it than he would like, still he makes it a constant habit to check what it says.

 

This one comes in the late afternoon, about three o’ clock and Akaashi has to wait almost another hour before he changes in the locker room. He can’t check in the middle of class because it’s right above his heart- Akaashi isn’t too keen on stripping mid class at his high school. 

 

It is… worrying to say the least. For some reason there aren’t as many lies around his heart, to have one so close it’s almost on it means something, even if Akaashi doesn’t quite know what that  _ something  _ is yet.

 

He’d had eight in one day before, Akaashi reminds himself. That was panic-in-the-shower inducing, followed by lay-in-bed-and-dissociate-at-the-ceiling, so Akaashi tries to keep his breathing even from just one.

 

Locker room emptied, save for Bokuto who serves as emotional support, (Bokuto knows a thing or two about emotions, and Akaashi trusts his senpai even if they’re opposites. They are as Bokuto says ‘best friends’ and Akaashi wouldn’t do a thing to change it) Akaashi dares to lift his shirt high enough to read the words. 

 

Akaashi’s breath hitches, catching the rank air he usually takes shallow breaths to avoid.

 

_ Thank you ma’am, but I’m afraid I have yet to meet my soulmate. _

 

His head is spinning, quite possibly from the smell of sweat and Bokuto’s loud excited whoops as he promises to tell Kuroo or something.

 

“B-Bokuto wait- wait. What does this mean?” Akaashi’s voice feels very small, his whole being in fact.

  
  


\- When he comes to it’s without remembering ever passing out. 

 

Just a little blackness.

 

“Akaashi are you alright?” Bokuto asks, his big hands reaching down to pull Akaashi up off the ground. “I…” Akaashi says surprised and a little loopy, “did I pass out?” for a second he wants to maniacally laugh, what comes out is more of a snort. Bokuto’s full lips quirk up, out of their worried position from between his teeth “Yeah.” The two look at each other, mirth in their eyes. “Yeah you did,” Bokuto laughs out as he leans a shaking Akaashi onto his shoulder. 

 

Promising to get him home, Bokuto explains to the coach they’ll be missing practice for the day and with the way Akaashi is pressed against Bokuto, Coach can tell it’s something to not be asked about, thankfully.

 

In his mind Akaashi is completely freaked out right now, but he also feels too lethargic to panic and he’s not sure what to do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mentally, Akaashi spends two days just existing.

 

Physically, he’s on edge- his fingers itch, he can't find a comfortable way to sit, ever, and his clothes feel too tight, too in the way.

 

He’s in between constantly running through every face he’s seen in the past weeks and just mind numbing blankness. Chemical reactions, maths, and character analysis are completely lost on him. 

 

After school, when he should be practicing piano, he doesn't follow any assigned script music just lets his fingers wander up and down the keyboard, staring at white notes without seeing.

 

D flat, for some reason, holds revelation for Akaashi, his fingers stop moving and a loud silence rings through the room. Revelation comes in the form of wide brown eyes, dramatic pouting and a whole lot of smiles that distract from a devastating loss. 

 

Oikawa Tooru, the boy he met in the bathroom completely matches the kind of person who would say the things that litter Akaashi’s skin. Akaashi has always especially kept an eye out for loud personalities that cover something because he assumes that's how his soulmate would act- it's how he and Bokuto fit so well together, it's how he noticed Oikawa in the first place. 

 

It's disconcerting to say the least, that the bathroom boy he spent an afternoon with, joking with, would lie so easily, promises of how ' _ fine’  _  he was so easily.

 

Suddenly he scrambles for his phone in a half dive. To text Bokuto ' **Who would have Oikawa Tooru’s phone number??’** he doesn't need to explain what it's about, Bokuto already knows. Akaashi stares back at the piano for a second then grabs his bag and calls out a goodbye to the owner of the space to head home

 

Akaashi's phone shakes in his fingers as he stares at the screen the whole way home, practically begging for a response. Three dots appear just as he flops down on the bed with a rush of air, followed by a string of numbers. Akaashi trembles out a haphazard ' **Thanks** ’. 

  
  


He calls the number, hesitates, hangs up. Hesitates, calls the number, hangs up. Terrified, he clicks back into his text conversation with Bokuto ' **Should I call?** ’ 

 

Half a minute later a phone call pops up from Kuroo, ah, the two must have been hanging out. Tapping the answer button Akaashi brings the phone up to his ear “Kuroo, what do I-”

 

“Akaashi.” Kuroo says his name like a demand followed by Bokuto's crow in the background that sounds like 'Ageshi!’ or some other butchering of his name. 

 

Kuroo shushes Bokuto, or maybe the mewling cat -and really what are they doing? Akaashi really doesn't want to drag them out of the hospital, this is  _ his  _ crisis right now. Honestly those two- 

 

“Akaashi, I've seen your markings, I see the way you wear them proudly. I see the way you treat Bokuto,” a crash and some shoving sounds like the phone fell into the couch interrupts for a few seconds, “ -the way you treat Bokuto and look for the underneath all his loudness.” To the side he chastises like a mother “yes you are loud Bokuto don't lie.”

 

“Akaashi, I know a lot of what you do is for your soulmate. I know you want to desperately call him because you think he needs you. Maybe you think you can help him like a romance movie, and that's okay.” A sigh, “it's not hard to tell these things, you wear your heart on your sleeve; in your markings so to speak. Akaashi I know that for all that you think he needs you, you’re going to need him too. Maybe it’s going to be Oikawa Tooru and that's scary, or it's not and that's scary too. You're allowed to be scared. But Akaashi you gotta call him.”

 

It's silent and the line is static for a second. “That was so deep bro, Akaashi that was so inspirational dude,” Bokuto says and his awe is palpable. Then the loud mewing starts back up, along with yelping. Kuroo chuckles into the phone, “I’ve had a lot of practice,” Akaashi can almost see Kuroo watching Bokuto do… whatever he’s doing with fondness. “He's not wrong,” Akaashi teases, “when did you get so deep dude?” 

 

An offended squeak and “I have  _ always  _ been like this Akaashi and frankly I am just… offended you would just now pick that up.”

 

Akaashi giggles and hangs up to leave him even more offended. 

 

A text, a text is safer. An awkward long first time text explaining who he is.

 

Three dots that warn a response pop up three times, each time Akaashi’s breath catches.

 

Then a lame ' **heyy** ’ and for a second Akaashi second guesses his entire life. But he remembers a boy in the bathroom, who is loud and quiet with a best friend named Iwa-chan that he's proud of. Nervous probably, and Akaashi smirks.

 

' **Hold on** ’ he types, then to the silence of his room “My name is not Akaashi Keiji.” ' **Did you get that? I just said my name, Otherwise we aren't soulmates’**

 

Akaashi tries not to focus on his thoughts or the tingle in his stomach.

 

' **I think you broke the idiot, but yeah he got it. Akaashi right? He’s taking you out on a date this weekend just send your address. Welcome to fam.**

**-Iwaizumi, I’m his friend.** ’ 

 

That must be Iwa-chan then, Akaashi giggles into his hand and sends back his address with a ' **happy to be here. Thank you Iwaizumi-senpai** ’ 

 

His heart feels a little bit lighter, a little bit fuller. 

 

' **Sorry about him!! Iwa-chan’s  a brute -.-’’. Do you want to go out though…?′**

  
  


Akaashi can feel his lips twitch, his cheeks feel warm. ' **Yeah I'd like that** ’

 

Later that night, he's in the shower and soft script blooms inside his thigh. For a second his adrenaline spikes but…  _ my name is not Oikawa Tooru. _

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

Entrance exams are in a week, Oikawa,  from what he hears from Iwaizumi, has been practicing way too hard, barely studying in exchange for volleyball.

 

So Akaashi stops by Aoba Joshai’s gym at almost seven o’ clock. 

Inside he can hear the  _ squeak, bam, thump  _ of Oikawa setting and serving within. Outside Iwaizumi sits against the wall with his forearms pressed against his knees thumbing through his phone. The lights of the gym, along with the shine glow of his phone, contrast against Iwaizumi’s dark face, making his grumpy expression look twice as mean in the shadows.

 

“He’s still in there,” Iwaizumi grunts jerking his head toward the gym door, moving to stand, “and he’s not listening to me. I figured he might like to see you.” 

 

Akaashi nods politely while Iwaizumi brushes some dirt off his pants, “Thank you for letting me know Iwaizumi-senpai, and once again thank you for helping me keep tabs on Oikawa. Your support in our relationship has helped me to understand him better.” Waving Akaashi off with another grunt, “Don’t be so polite dude, we’re practically family. I don’t need long thought out sentences and…” the ace trails off with a bit of a blush dusting the rough cheeks, “I suppose you can call me Iwa-chan, it’ll sound better from you than the idiot anyway.”

 

Akaashi fights to keep a broad grin off his face, he can’t let Iwaizumi know just how passively patronizing he is just yet. “Yes, Iwaizumi-senpai,” Akaashi says instead, just to mess with him a bit. 

 

Stepping around Iwaizumi’s awkward hulking form he stands in the illuminated doorway, just observing Oikawa’s form.  

 

He’s graceful, focused. Sweat drips off Oikawa’s brow but it only makes him glow more, and the way he sucks on the inside of his cheek in concentration which only brings out Oikawa’s high cheek bones. 

 

“Tooru,” Akaashi calls, worming his way into Oikawa’s practice. He begins the process of moving Oikawa’s attention off of the ball and onto himself- starting with words.

 

Oikawa is still staring, panting at the other side of the court, taking a few seconds before his head whips so fast his fluffed hair whips too and sticks itself to his forhead. Cute. And exhausted, Clearly, if it takes his body a few seconds to catch up with his mind. “Keiji…” Oikawa looks lost for a second, innocent. He straightens out into the young man Akaashi sees in him, striking, soft, everything all at once. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“We’re going out to dinner.” It’s a demand, Akaashi turns to begin picking up the balls and throwing them back into bins, “Hurry now and get dressed, I don’t want you stinking too bad.”

 

“Keiji I need to practice a bit more,” Oikawa says urgently, as if he’s going to save the world by practicing. Akaashi pauses mid motion, letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he drops the ball into the bin, a bit hard, and turns on his heel to stalk to the boy across the gym with the world on his shoulders.

 

Oikawa looks petulant like this, pouting and pleading, halfway between blowing off practice to play hooky and overworking himself until he can’t stand anymore. Akaashi starts at Oikawa’s elbows and drags his fingers along Oikawa’s sticky arms, slipping his fingers into Oikawa’s. 

 

Oikawa shivers from the drying sweat and the gentle way Akaashi handles him, intimate, even when they’re just holding hands. He pulls Oikawa’s hand until it rests right above Akaashi’s hip and steps closer as if preparing to slow dance. Akaashi guides Oikawa’s hand to lift his shirt and for a second Oikawa panics  _ -Is Keiji seducing me? This is too much power. Keiji is beautiful I can’t-  _ while Akaashi guides his fingers to warm patch of skin along his back.

 

He stands up on his tiptoes in a way that is adorable, but Oikawa feels kind of bad because he knows his sweat is probably getting on sweet smelling Akaashi. “It says ‘Keiji I need to practice’ right there you liar, shut up and treat your boyfriend to dinner,” Akaashi whispers along his earshell.

 

Giving a peck to Oikawa’s sweaty temple, he winks then slides away to begin collecting volleyballs again.

 

“Keiji I…” Oikawa sighs in disappointment. “I didn’t mean to lie, I’m sorry. I’ll get changed and take you out.”

 

Smiling over his shoulder with a soft face, Akaashi levels him with a look, eyes hard as steel. “It’s alright sweetheart. Don’t lie to me again,” and then fixes him with a vaguely threatening smile. 

 

Oikawa falls a little bit deeper.

 

They end up at a stand in the city, outside city life bustles; street light giveing a dull impression of the sun. Akaashi’s cold fingers trace along Oikawa’s protruding veins on his wrist with his head resting on Oikawa’s shoulder, they both speak softly as if to preserve this out of time moment.

 

Universities and impending nationals seem a little bit far away right now, although Oikawa promises to meet Akaashi on the court in Tokyo this year. 

 

Together they snicker about Iwaizumi’s secret love of his nickname “I knew it!” Oikawa exclaims his eyes shining, “Keiji didn’t I tell you?”

 

“You told me,” Akaashi reassures laughing and clutching the table for support. For a moment he observes the crinkle in Oikawa’s eyes, the wrinkle in his nose. Then his mind leaves Oikawa for a second and wonders if the passerby’s know how in love he is, if they know what it’s like to have a soulmate.

 

After catching his breath, Akaashi lays his head back down on Oikawa’s shoulder and sucks loudy out of his water straw. He soaks up Oikawa’s expression of fondness and disgust. 

 

“Thanks for getting me out of the gym Keiji.”

 

“I know you needed it. I love you.” 

  
  


* * *

 

It’s been months, a few scattered white lies maybe. But the words that scrawl into his skin still feel like knives on the verge of piercing skin.

 

They had talked about it, worked together so that Oikawa wouldn’t do this anymore, wouldn’t lie. 

 

Akaashi’s mind feels fuzzy, and he tries to concentrate on the lecturer's words. It's all just sound, white noise in the back of his mind.

 

The mark is on his hip, right where his jeans dig into his bone.

 

Akaashi is  _ scared scared scared. _

 

Oikawa is tired and adorably confused when he answers the door, “Keiji?” He cracks the door more for Akaashi to walk in and suddenly Akaashi is second guessing everything. Maybe he shouldn't have come.

 

“Sorry I-I,” he's not really sure what he’s trying to say. “I just got scared is all, um. You- I don't know it's stupid.” 

 

Oikawa approaches Akaashi like he's a wounded animal, and that only scares Akaashi a little bit more if he's being honest. 

 

“My parents won't be back for a bit Keiji, I-,” Oikawa looks a little lost, unsure what to do,“come on cuddle with me for a bit.” Akaashi nibbles on the inside of his lip, a habit, reaching out to accept the offered hand. Oikawa leads them down the familiar path to his room and tugs Akaashi close, faster than he was expecting, catching him off guard, throwing them both on the bed. 

 

Oikawa wiggles himself closer still to Akaashi’s side and breathes into his neck. “What's wrong?” Oikawa’s words feels warm against his skin. 

 

Akaashi looks between Oikawa's slightly curled hair and the stark ceiling. He can feel wetness start to form at the corner of his eyes  _ not now  _ he thinks,  _ not here. _

 

“I don’t know, I got another marking today and I-” breaks off, a little roughly. He can feel Oikawa try to glance up, a shift in the bed but Akaashi squeezes him averting his eyes, Oikawa stills falling into a silence.

 

They lay that way for a little longer, Akaashi wonders if Oikawa has classes, needs to study or practice but he’s scared Oikawa will leave him. Will go away.

 

“Akaashi. Oh, Keiji,” Oikawa half whispers into the quiet room, “is this me?” and it sounds vulnerable, but not in the way Akaashi feels.

 

It’s trusting and something entirely unlike Oikawa gets when he’s frustrated -all closed off- it’s… communication. Akaashi shouldn’t be so surprised at the staple action, still, it means a lot to him. “No, I think it’s-”  _ me,  _ “well I don’t know,”  _ what's wrong with me,  _ “I just get like this I guess,”  _ clingy and gross.  _

 

Oikawa’s face screws up in the way that makes his eyes squint, Akaashi can’t help but admire his eyelashes, “dumb, Keiji, that’s dumb. You didn’t do anything.”

 

Akaashi can feel his chest lose air as he giggles, “okay fine, what’s wrong diagnose me Doctor Tooru.” The moment Oikawa pushes his glasses up smartly Akaashi knows he’s screwed, “well in my educated opinion,” Oikawa starts, only to break off with Akaashi’s snort to glare, “-IN my educated opinion  _ patient. Keiji. _ I think you're a little needy.” 

 

Akaashi’s heart plunges into his stomach, he feels sick, Oikawa sounds like he’s joking but Akaashi can feel himself stinging all the way down to his feet in shame. “Ahem,” Oikawa says looking down at Akaashi from his knees on the bed, readjusting his glasses again, “I suppose,” and what a sly look that is, “you just  _ need  _ a little more Tooru.” 

 

Oikawa dives at Akaashi with kisses and it might just be the sweetest thing he’s ever experienced, what a sap his soulmate is. “I don’t need you!” Akaashi defends loudly as Oikawa lands smacking kisses along each of his marks. Laughing, “Admit it! It’s the only way you can heal, scientifically proven!” 

 

“Yeah, well your science is a little screwed seeing as you think ancient aliens- ah ha stop tickling me!” 

 

“Admit it!

 

Akaashi’s cheeks hurt. He still feels a little bit off, but better, just a bit. “Fine, fine,” he cedes, “I’m a little needy and I need you. But Tooru-” 

 

“No ‘buts’ Keiji, leave it at that. I need you to need meeee,” Oikawa looks so childish, half mumbling this into his skin mid kiss with his hands over his ears, glasses slanted off his nose. “I love you,” Akaashi grins stupidly, Oikawa grins stupidly back, silently.

 

Akaashi’s hesitation comes back, but he knows how hard Oikawa is trying to communicate. To tell the truth, because he hates Akaashi’s markings. So despite the fact that Akaashi’s scared to make the plunge, to say what is on his mind, he knows that just like cold water, he’ll never get anywhere until he dives in. It’s like the first time he called Oikawa, just breathe and Kuroo’s words echo back to him  _ ‘you’ll need him too’.  _

 

“Needy isn’t good Tooru,” Akaashi admits out loud. Oikawa’s smile becomes a little more off kilter, a little more forced, the stilted look is still there after years of practice, “well no,” Oikawa gives, “but it’s okay if you need me. Otherwise,” he blushes, “well this wouldn’t be a very equal relationship if I wanted you so badly then would it?”

 

Akaashi’s cheeks burn dully. He reaches out and readjusts Oikawa’s falling glasses. 

 

“No,” he muses, “I suppose not, you needy little thing.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Akaashi doesn’t know where he is going, just speeds down the highway in hopes he’ll come across a sign that will tell him where to go. Mostly though, he’s wandering. Motivated by Oikawa’s soft pleads of “Just get me out, I don’t know where. Take me away. Akaashi, please,” Akaashi grips the steering wheel tight and drives.

 

They don’t speak but that doesn’t mean it’s silent, it’s the usual noises of midnight driving- quick winds that whip the tips of ears and tosses hair, cars that zip by and pass them, night life in the woods right off the highway. Accompanied, occasionally, by Oikawa’s whimpers.

 

He’ll look down at his hands and sob once or twice, sometimes look out the window and make a noise in his throat. They are all the kind Akaashi knows he can’t control, and he lays his hand palm upward between the seats as an offering. Oikawa reaches between them and grasps Akaashi’s fingers between his own.

 

Akaashi catches sight of sign toward a well known beach town after about an hour’s drive. Trying to keep his eyes on the road, he turns slightly to study Oikawa’s face, not just his high bones, rounded cheeks or pointed ears, but the drawn expression. 

 

Oikawa looks a little tired from crying, eyes a little puffed. He’s not one that most would consider a ‘pretty crier’- like most of Oikawa’s emotions, it’s raw. Akaashi doesn’t want to bring him home tonight, not on a night like this. Akaashi’s mom knows, at least a little, of what is going on, he’s not worried about her. But Oikawa’s parents… Akaashi has never seen them around, he doubts Oikawa will need to text them if he stays out for the night. Akaashi also doubts that Oikawa should go back home to an empty house. 

 

Not that Akaashi wouldn’t stay with him.

 

Akaashi breathes in the night air and breathes it back out, a half formed sigh that makes Oikawa glance at him as though he’s afraid Akaashi is disappointed. Turning his attention back to the road, Akaashi switches lanes to take the exit to the beach town. Oikawa looks startled, but still, he doesn’t say anything, just grips a little tighter to Akaashi’s hand.

 

The two drive a bit more before pulling up to  a family run motel that Akaashi and his parents have stayed at every time they come down this way, and shuts off the car. They sit and listen to the crickets for a bit, staring straight ahead.

 

“Let’s stay the night,” Akaashi says, voice raw and thick from fatigue, he slips his hands out from Oikawa’s and undos his seatbelt. Oikawa, much slower, startles into action sluggishly and Akaashi hurries to the other side to open the door for him, helping him stagger out. 

 

He leads them into the lobby area that is decorated with beach themed wall paper, and little palm trees that litter the counter a tired employ lists behind. She perks up a little when they come in, “Hello, welcome, we have seven vacancies, do you have a preference which room you get?” 

 

Akaashi and the short black haired employee work out the details while Oikawa stands, almost shyly, to the side. 

 

The two stumble up some stairs outside when heading to their room, leaning against each other while the ocean breeze blows. Oikawa rests his head along the crook of Akaashi’s shoulder  while he shoves in the key card to let them into a cold room, the sounds of waves crashing can be heard outside. As Oikawa sticks closely to Akaashi, Akaashi is struck for a second by his affection and lets his mind try to unravel Oikawa’s. 

 

They take turn showering and it’s almost one in the morning by the time the two lay under the cheap comforter and off brand sheets. It’s really dark by the beach, no street lights, and Akaashi isn’t sure why, but it makes Oikawa the only thing in the room he can see.

 

He strokes Oikawa’s temple, comforted by the fact his expression has balanced out, perhaps not quite as expressive as normal- but calmer nonetheless. 

 

Akaashi licks his parched lips as he looks over the rest of Oikawa, feeling Oikawa’s half lidded eyes studying himself in reciprocation. At the crease in his elbow Akaashi reads ‘ _ I most definitely could never be proud of my soulmate. Especially when he messes up, I am least proud then.’ _

 

“I said this when I first saw you actually,” Akaashi begins to explain the mark, his voice filling the quiet, “at the time of course I didn’t know you were my soulmate. I just saw a setter out on the court, who was keeping his team together but was struggling to keep himself together.” Tracing over the lines Akaashi huffs out a small breath, “I wouldn’t say that to anyone else you know, people don’t like knowing they have flaws, that they fall apart. Or rather they don’t like hearing it, but I want to be honest with you Oikawa.”

 

“I thought that maybe you reminded me of who I thought my soulmate would be like, you had given me a lot to think about over the years. You made me in a way. I observed more than my peers -a favorable trait in setters- I tried to look from everyone’s point of view, thought about if someone felt okay or not. Small things, I think, but you were a part of me.” Akaashi rolls onto his back and stares up at the popcorn ceiling, feeling Oikawa’s eyes on the side of his head.

 

“I’m glad you know. Because when I saw you out on the court I thought… ‘he reminds me of what I think my soulmate might be’ but I also thought, ‘he reminds me of me a bit’.”

 

Akaashi paused, considering, then extended an offering to Oikawa: “What were you doing when you got the one on your knee?” 

 

It’s quiet for a while, Akaashi almost dozing to the sounds of the waves. He opens his mouth to possibly say goodnight when Oikawa says in a half whisper, “It was toward the end of eleventh grade.”

 

Another silence stretches between them.

 

“I had hurt my knee from practicing too hard. But I didn’t feel like I had practiced too much- I felt like I hadn’t practiced  _ enough. _ Iwa-chan was practically pulling out his hair,” Oikawa breaks out into a quiet chuckle as if too tired to even laugh, “I felt useless so even though I was hurt…. I kept telling myself and everyone else ‘I’m fine,’ which was a lie.”

 

Oikawa breathes in, chest expanding and pulls at the blankets, “I kept practicing and I felt so. So frustrated and angry, it didn’t help my knee was throbbing -my head too- and I practiced a serve. And...then I fell and I just stared at my knee.”

 

“My tears made my vision blurry, and in hindsight my knee looked god awful- just so swollen and red. I thought to myself ‘ _ what are you going to do with this?’  _ and then instead of pain I felt a tickle,” Oikawa’s lips twitch into a quirked smile, “Your writing, another one of your reassurances. A promise you could never, ever, be disappointed in me.”

 

Akaashi blinks twice in awe, then his face crumbles into relief “I helped,” he says into a deep exhale, “I’m glad you ended up okay.”

 

Oikawa looks around as if debating before catching Akaashi’s eye and making his mind up about something or other. “I still had doubts- ‘ _ they don’t know me yet.. They’ll find out something about me…’  _ stuff like that. But Keiji, do you doubt that you help me? Keiji, it feels like you saved me sometimes. Before we met even, but, oh Akaashi after?”

 

Oikawa leans his head forward, breathing in the scent of Akaashi’s skin “You are, I don’t know. I can’t even find the words. You know - you of all people know - how much I struggle to tell the truth. I’ll struggle everyday for you Akaashi. I swear it, even if swears don’t mean much to you, this one will, because I’ll hold onto it forever.”

 

“The truth?” Akaashi returns his nose half into the fluffed hotel pillow, half in Oikawa’s damp hotel shampoo scented hair. “I think I can help you Oikawa, even a little bit. But is it  _ enough _ ?”

 

Oikawa doesn’t know how to respond, it’s a rhetorical question maybe, but Oikawa wants to reassure, to promise ‘yes forever’. But the truth is harder, always.

 

“Who cares Akaashi?” _ Who even cares about me anymore? Just… as long as I have you. _

 

“Oikawa, I care. I care. I care. I care every time. I love you.”

Just like every time before Oikawa can feel his breath catch.

  
  


* * *

 

 

It's warm here. 

 

The sun is bright enough to force your eyes closed and just… bathe in the warmth.

 

There's a light breeze too, enough to pick up your hair and toss it, to quietly carry the sounds of life along the beach and sprinkle sand along your cheeks.

 

It's always been, Oikawa knows, peaceful in Miyagi. A countryside with mountains and nature.

 

But it's always been  _ loud _ for Oikawa.

A constant rush for him- be better in school, better at volleyball, make more friends, be the best,  _ be the best _ .

 

The small town just meant that he had to work twice as hard to be better than Tokyo.  _ He had to. _

Big cities, well. Loud noises, people, competition, not to mention college.

 

This beach town though? This beach?

But it's quiet  _ here. _ Warm. Wide.

 

It's a peace Oikawa has never before connected to, even now thoughts flit about: reminders to do this, this, and this. Plans and worries, but mostly, his mind is blank in a way he's not used to. 

 

He cracks his eyes open- just a little. The world seems just off color, and spots dance across his vision. And his eyes pull to close again.

 

But his thoughts drift to the weight on his chest and his eyes follow. 

 

The breeze tosses black hair, lips quietly snore and pale pinked cheeks smoosh up against Oikawa’s old t-shirt.

 

And suddenly Oikawa never wants to close his eyes again.

 

Without changing the slow deep tempo of his breath, without opening his eyes, Akaashi’s silvery voice winds though the wind like chimes “Are you okay?”

 

And Oikawa doesn't know. He thinks he is right now, but he's not sure how long it will last, if he's lying or telling the truth, he doesn't know if he should say yes.

 

Instead:

 

“I love you Akaashi.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Haikyuu or it's characters  
> Thank you so much for reading!! Constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
